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DOBELL COLLECTION 






GOMEROCK CASTLE. 



GOMEROCK CASTLE: 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 



A. H. HOLDSWORTH, ESQ, 



LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION. 

MDCCCXLIV. 






205449 
'13 



TO 

COLONEL T. W. TAYLOR, C.B. 
Qi ©gfcoeH 1|ouse, 

LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR OF THE ROYAL MILITARY 
COLLEGE, SANDHURST, 

ETC. ETC. ETC. 



My dear Taylor, 

More than half a century has passed 
away since we together drew our wooden 
swords, and issued from our encampment 
on the summit of a mound within the 
warren at Coomb Royal, and charged with 
our imaginary army the thistles which had 
ventured to take post within our little ter- 
ritory. 



VI DEDICATION. 

Years have rolled on, and you have changed 
your wooden sword for one of deadlier tem- 
per, and have wielded it in your country's 
cause, from the banks of the Sutlej to Java's 
sultry plains, from Waterloo to Paris : whilst 
your pen has told of those brave comrades 
who were led to victory by Gillespie at 
Cornells — has chased the Flying Dutchman 
in his phantom-ship — and registered the 
brave Guerilla's vow 

" Of vengeance on the ruthless foe 
Who spoils our native land." 

The imagery of early life has not forsaken 
you. 

To whom, then, can I dedicate the 
legend of Gomerock Castle so fitly as to 
yourself? — for, if the history of one who 
perished there should fail in interest, my 



DEDICATION. Vll 

tale may yet call to your remembrance the 
inhabitants of the " Gull's Nest" and Brook- 
hill. 

Accept it, then, as a token of regard, from 
one who was your earliest playmate, school- 
fellow, and friend, 

The Authok. 

Brookhiil, Nov. 1, 1844. 



GOMEKOCK CASTLE: 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 



When Dartmouth sent a goodly company of 
750 men, and above thirty ships, to assist 
the third Edward at the siege of Calais — and 
when, to avenge himself for wrongs done on 
his coast, the Admiral of Bretagne attempted 
a descent on Dartmouth, and his army was 
driven precipitately back into their ships, 
leaving the Lord du Chastel, with other officers 
of rank slain in fight, and 100 men prisoners 
to the gallant defenders of the town — and 
when the Lancastrian party availed them- 

B 



12 gomerock castle; or, 

The skeleton was lying on its back, with 
the head turned, as if resting, when buried, 
on the right shoulder, the left arm uplifted 
above the head, whilst the right was close to 
the body. The whole bore testimony to a 
hasty interment. 

The men eagerly told of what had hap- 
pened when they returned to Kingswear. 
The story flew from mouth to mouth; and, 
on the second day after the discovery, the 
man who found the bones informed his fel- 
low-labourers that he had no doubt of their 
being the remains of a woman, for he had 
heard a story which went strongly to prove 
it. " There was a woman," said he, " more 
than a century ago, who used to frequent 
that Castle. She was often seen wandering 
about the adjoining cliffs, but suddenly dis- 
appeared; and I have no doubt but these 
bones must be the remains of that unfor- 
tunate creature. 5 ' 

The man whom he addressed smiled at his 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 13 

story, for he was a stranger ; and the other, 
vexed at his want of faith, continued — " You 
may smile, but I could name the persons 
who have seen a woman's form pass close 
before them here, in the night, and suddenly 
be lost. Strange things were spoken of 
before our master came to live here : noises 
were heard, and Mountain's Gate has opened 
for the traveller without mortal hands." 

Who Mountain was, that gave to that 
mysterious gate his name, or why the house 
in which he dwelt was suffered to decay, and 
a small portion only to remain to mark the 
spot, no one can tell. But at the time it 
stood there, it was the last from Kingswear ; 
beyond it there was no trace of house or 
dwelling, save only the ruins of Gomerock 
Castle, and a square tower which stands upon 
the rocks, more distant towards the sea, and 
of more modern character. 

A surgeon, who visited the spot, decided 
that it was the skeleton of a man; for, 



14 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

although there was little doubt that it had 
been there nearly a century, still the skull 
was sufficiently preserved to satisfy him of 
the fact. When the place was cleared out, 
the bones were again buried near the spot 
where they were found, and a grave raised 
over them. The following story, put together 
from materials which were afterwards collected 
from the old inhabitants of Kingswear, may 
stamp it as 

"THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN." 



Two centuries ago. Kingswear wore a dif- 
ferent appearance from that which it does at 
present. Many of its younger inhabitants 
were employed in the Newfoundland trade. 

About the time of King William's landing 
at Brixham, William Blackaller was mate 
of a fine brig, which was chiefly employed 
in carrying fish from Newfoundland to the 
Mediterranean. 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 15 

From the repeated voyages he had made, 
since he became a stout apprentice, he had 
acquired a desire to wander; and an old 
companion of his early life induced him to 
leave the service in which he had been so 
long employed, and enter on board a man- 
of-war. He was well recommended by his 
old master to the captain of the ship, and 
proving an expert and gallant seaman, he 
was in a few years promoted to the rank of a 
warrant-officer. 

No man was more beloved by his com- 
panions than Boatswain Blackaller. He 
had served well at La Hogue, was at the 
taking of the French and Spanish ships in 
Vigo Bay, at the capture of Gibraltar in 1 704, 
and at the battle of Velez Malaga, which 
followed soon after; and when Sir Oloudes- 
ley Shovel was wrecked on his homeward 
passage, with a part of his fleet, after the 
unsuccessful attempt of Prince Eugene and 
the Duke of Savoy against Toulon, in 1707, 



16 gomerock castle; or, 

Blackaller was boatswain of the Associa- 
tion, and, with her whole ship's company, 
perished on the rocks of Scilly. 

Blackaller left a widow and some chil- 
dren to mourn his loss. Amongst them was 
a boy of about eleven years of age, who, 
from the daring spirit which he displayed, 
was considered " the very image of his 
father." 

The melancholy bereavement which had 
thus suddenly befallen the family excited the 
feeling of all around them — the more strongly, 
perhaps, from the vast extent of a calamity 
in which so many brave men had perished ; 
and William (for so he was named, after his 
father) was taken as an apprentice by a mer- 
chant, then carrying on a considerable busi- 
ness. 

According to the general custom of that 
day, the boy had to spend the summer in 
Newfoundland, and the winter months in his 
masters house at Dartmouth. During the 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 17 

latter portion of the year, the apprentices 
were employed in preparing rigging, and 
fitting the ships for their next voyage, whilst 
their evenings were dedicated to such instruc- 
tion in writing and navigation as would ren- 
der them fit to fill the situations of mates 
and masters, as vacancies might arise. 

The boy soon became noted both for his 
learning and seamanship, and he was of that 
bold and generous spirit, that, if wrong were 
done to any of his companions by the boys 
of another house, Blackaller was always 
the first to avenge the injury, and bear the 
blame which should have been laid on other 
shoulders, 

His apprenticeship ended, he still con- 
tinued in the employ of his master; but a 
very few years expired before William was 
lost to his old companions. 

He had gone in one of his masters vessels 
with fish to the West Indies, and whilst the 
cargo was discharging he suddenly disap- 



18 GOMEROCK CASTLE; OR, 

peared. His shipmates hunted for him in 
every direction about the port, but to no 
purpose. They could only learn that he had 
more than once been seen in company with 
some strange seamen, belonging (as it after- 
wards appeared) to a ship which sailed the 
day after William was missed ; but where 
the vessel belonged, whence she came, or 
whither bound, no one had any knowledge : 
yet the manner in which she was handled, 
and her general appearance, shewed that 
those who composed her crew were not sea- 
men of an ordinary character. 

Years passed away, the widow of Boat- 
swain Blackaller had been interred in the 
little churchyard of Kingswear, and her 
family had been so long dispersed that the 
name was little thought of, when William 
suddenly returned to the place of his birth. 
He came in a coasting vessel from London. 
Few remembered him; and those who did 
could scarcely recognise, in his sunburnt 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 19 

and careworn countenance, the features of 
their early companion. His manner was so 
reserved, and his countenance so full of 
rebuke if any one attempted to pry into his 
history, that few dared attempt it a second 
time ; and those who did, only learned that 
he had been occupied in trade in the West 
Indies, and had gained enough to enable 
him to live comfortably at home. 

But he came not alone. A beautiful girl, 
of about ten years of age, engrossed all his 
attention. Her features were not strictly 
English, though she was like her father : her 
quick and large black eye, and general man- 
ner, bespoke a Spanish origin, and shewed 
that she had been born under a more vivid 
sun than that of Europe. 

Maria was sent to school, and her father 
occupied his time in fishing in a small sailing- 
boat, which he managed with a dexterity that 
bespoke the seaman, not the trader; and 
once he thought of entering into partnership 



20 gomerock castle; or, 

with a man who wished him to purchase half 
his vessel^ but it might cause inquiry about 
his money, and he as suddenly gave it up. 

The inn at the Ferry becoming vacant, he 
took a lease in it; and when Maria had 
been three years at school, she returned to 
be the mistress of her fathers house, and do 
the office of the hostess. His disposition 
was becoming gloomy, and more than usually 
reserved; but the return of his favourite 
child restored him again to himself. 

Maria seldom left the bar. She had a 
mind far above the ordinary stamp of those 
who lived around her, and had more pleasure 
in a book than in their society. But her 
fathers house was the resort of many masters 
of vessels, who, as Maria became more accus- 
tomed to her new employment, were drawn 
by her to the house. Her lively manner and 
dark eye sold many a bowl of punch, they 
said, for the good landlord. He, always on 
his guard, read with a scrutinizing eye every 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 21 

stranger that came to his house ; listening 
to the stories of all, but imparting little in 
return. 

Maria had entered on her twentieth year, 
when a heavy gale from the south-west, about 
the middle of September, drove a large ship, 
bound to the Spanish main, to seek shelter 
in the harbour. She had lost a part of her 
masts and rigging, and had sprung a leak, 
which prevented her from proceeding on her 
voyage, without considerable repair. It was 
necessary that her cargo should be taken out, 
which was a work of time ; and her master, 
having placed himself in the hands of an 
agent, commenced unloading. 

Having heard of Blackaller, and anxious 
to look at the entrance of the harbour from 
the Kingswear side, he landed with his mate, 
and w r alked for an hour over the hills towards 
the Mew r stone. On their return, they went 
into the Ferry-house, and ordered a bowl of 
punch, which was supplied by Maria; and 



22 gomerock castle; or, 

Blackaller being desired to join them, they 
entered into a conversation which lasted till 
late in the evening. Indeed, neither of them 
appeared anxious to leave the house, though 
neither imparted to the other the cause by 
which he was retained there. 

The captain was a man nearly forty years 
of age, as bold and daring as Blackaller 
himself; but he was also of a very irritable 
temper, and, if thwarted when a little in 
liquor, he had no restraint upon his passion. 
Still he was an honest man, and an excellent 
seaman, and had for years been the favourite 
captain of his owners. 

The mate was the son of a friend of theirs, 
of the name of Mordaunt, resident in one of 
the West India islands, upon whom fortune 
had bestowed a large family, with little means 
to support them; and Henry, who had been 
born there, was sent to London, to the 
owners of the ship, who had kindly promised 
to bring him up. 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 23 

After he had received an education suited 
to his future prospects, he was put under the 
care of the master of the Meridian, (for such 
was the ship's name,) to be brought up to 
the sea. 

He had now passed his twentieth year, yet 
he still felt under restraint when in the com- 
pany of his captain — the natural effect of 
being so long under his guidance; but it was 
mixed with that regard for him which his 
bold bearing, and kindness in time of danger, 
had inspired; and if it did not amount to 
respect, it was only because the temper of 
his captain would sometimes lead him to acts 
of sudden violence towards his crew, which 
destroyed that feeling in the generous mind 
of the young mariner. 

Each had been struck by the appearance 
of Maria, but the captain did not perceive 
that it was to his mate that her eye was 
constantly directed, when the interesting 
matters on which they conversed, the land to 



24 G0MER0CK CASTLE ; OR, 

which they were bound, unusually rivetted 
her attention. Nothing passed between her 
and Henry Mordaunt that could be observed 
by others ; but when he shook hands with 
Maria, on leaving the house, there was that 
secret feeling between them which evinced 
that each had seen enough of the other to 
wish for a less restrained meeting — that early 
fervent feeling of untainted youth, which, 
ripening with years, will pilot us to the 
nearest port to heaven in which man can cast 
his anchor here. 

There was a warmth, too, in the man- 
ner of the captain, but it was returned only 
with that courtesy which she felt to be due 
to him as her father's guest. 

The visit to the Ferry-house was frequently 
renewed ; but Henry often stole there, un- 
known to his captain; and when he was 
supposed to be at a friend's house in Dart- 
mouth, Maria and he were taking many a 
delightful walk along the cliffs, scarcely 
noticed by any one. 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 25 

The old Castle of Gomeroek was a favourite 
haunt of the young lovers ; because there, 
amidst the wild wood that surrounded it, 
they could plight their mutual faith, unre- 
strained by the prying eye of curiosity. 

The feelings of the captain for Maria had 
not diminished ; yet they had not carried him 
beyond a marked attention when he was at 
her father's house ; which she always received 
with a frankness, which by some might be 
thought unfair to him in her situation. But 
she had been made aware of his temper ; and 
if she feared to rouse it, who could blame 
her ? She hoped, indeed, that nothing would 
be said by him about her; and that when he 
should leave the port he would forget her, as 
he had many a one before. 

As the ship's cargo was again being put 
on board, and the time of her departure drew 
near, his visits to her father were more 
frequent, and his attentions to Maria more 
decided; at length the vessel was declared 
c 



26 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

fit for sea, and the pilot dropped her down 
into the Bight, to be ready to sail with the 
early morning tide, which would turn about 
four. 

The moon was near the full, the evening 
beautifully serene, the captain had gone on 
shore to settle his accounts, and take his 
last dinner with the agent, who had invited 
a few friends to drink success to his voyage. 

All was ready on board, when Henry, 
availing himself of the opportunity, landed 
at Kingswear for the last time. Maria had 
anxiously expected him, and a few minutes 
brought them to their favourite haunt. They 
wandered about, unconscious of time, until 
at last they found themselves seated on the 
walls of the little Castle, close to the water ; 
for there, under the shadow of the cliff, 
they could freely speak of all their future 
hopes, and pledge their mutual vows of 
constancy. 

Henry had j ust taken from his bosom a 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 27 

locket with his mother's hair, which she had 
given him, w^hen he first left her for England, 
and which he prized as his own life ; and 
with a feeling, which those who have not 
experienced it can little understand, had 
hung it on his Maria's neck, charging her to 
look on it daily as the clearest token of his 
affection, the sole remains to him of a most 
kind and valued mother, when they were 
suddenly startled by the hoarse and angry 
voice of the captain — 

" I have found you at last ! " he exclaimed; 
4 'and with Maria ! : ' 

Inflamed with furv, he collected all his 
strength, and struck the mate a blov; which 
felled him to the ground. Maria shrieked, 
and, whilst the captain bent over his victim, 
she escaped far enough up the path to be 
unperceived by him, whilst she watched, with 
wild anxiety, the scene which was to follow. 
She thought she saw the captain lift Henry 
up, and place him on the spot where he had 
c 2 



28 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

been before seated. She heard a low voice, 
but from whom it came she could not tell ; 
the horror of what she had witnessed kept 
her rivetted to the spot on which she stood ; 
but when she saw the captain turn suddenly 
round, as if to seek her, she fled precipitately 
from the spot, and, entering her house, 
reached her room, she knew not how. 

Her father had not noticed her return, 
and, throwing herself on her bed, she swooned 
away. Eecovering from her faintness, she 
burst into a violent flood of tears, which so 
far relieved her mind as to recall her wander- 
ing thoughts. Her first impulse was to go 
to the door, and watch for those she had left 
at the Castle; for the ship's boat was at the 
Ferry-slip, and some of her crew were seated 
in the kitchen, in deep conversation with her 
father. All was still as death without. 
Maria's anxiety was too great to allow her 
to remain at the door : she stole uncon- 
sciously up the steps, and wandered on 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 29 

towards the Castle ; but had only proceeded 
a short distance, when she heard a footstep. 
She listened attentively. It was approach- 
ing, but it was that of a single person ; and 
before she could decide what course to take, 
the captain had seized her hand. 

"Dearest Maria!" he said, "into what a 
state of mind have you unconsciously brought 
me ! I loved you, and I believed that I was 
not indifferent to you. I saw you smile 
upon my mate, but I did not regard it. The 
event of to-night has opened my eyes to the 
truth. He is faint from the blow which, in 
my drunken fury, I struck him ; and I have 
left him on the seat where I found you. My 
boat is at the slip. I will pull directly to the 
place, and carry him off to the ship ; and 
to-morrow, before we sail, if it be too early 
to come on shore, he shall write to you by the 
pilot. Farewell, dear Maria!" he added, 
" do not go there, as my men will meet you; 
but wait upon the cliff, and you will see me 



30 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

perform my promise. Farewell!" he re- 
peated, but it was in a voice which was 
not natural to him ; and when she re- 
covered from the wild feelings which this 
unexpected conversation had created, a chill 
came over her, for which she could not 
account. 

" The captain's manner/' she said to her- 
self, " is so changed, and there was a sort 
of trembling motion in his hand when he 
took leave of me/' 

She was still absorbed in these thoughts 
when she heard the oars of the captain's 
boat, and soon saw her go to the ship. In 
a few minutes, she was again on her way to 
the Castle ; and with streaming eyes poor 
Maria watched every movement that she 
fancied was taking place at the spot where 
she had left her lover. In her anxiety, she 
fancied that the boat was a much longer 
time there than could be necessary for taking 
him on board, and a thousand conjectures 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 31 

crossed her mind ; but they fled as fast as 
they came. At last she saw the boat moving 
towards the ship, which was too close under 
the opposite shore to allow Maria to see 
who went on board. She could only hope 
all was right ; and that the morning would 
bring her a letter, if Henry could not come 
himself, 

Exhausted with the various scenes through 
which she had passed, she at length tore her- 
self from the spot, and retired hastily to bed, 
but not to sleep. She no sooner composed 
herself, as she believed, than the dreadful 
blow which the captain had given her lover 
rung in her ears, and his dying body seemed 
to lie before her. She started from her 
pillow, but found it a delusion. Again she 
tried to sleep, and the dying man appeared 
more plainly than before. He spoke — blessed 
her — and bade her adieu, for ever. She 
sprung from her bed, but ere she reached 
the floor, she fainted ; and when she again 



32 gomerock castle; or, 

came to herself, the visions which had ap- 
peared to her in the night were so stamped 
upon her fevered brain, that she could scarcely 
doubt of their reality. 

" This state of suspense/* she said to her- 
self, " is too dreadful. I will go to the cliff. 
I can then gaze on his vessel. I may see 
him, perhaps, coming to me." 

Full of these thoughts, she hastily dressed 
herself, and reached the spot from whence 
she had watched the boat on the preceding 
night. 

Morning had begun to dawn, and there 
was light enough to shew her that the ship 
was gone. 

" I will follow it," she said. " I may see 
her again before she clears the land." 

The thought gave her strength, and she 
ran along the cliffs, until she could see the 
Start Point. 

The sun had now risen so far above the 
horizon, and cast its beams so brightly across 
the bay, that the ship was clearly visible, 



THE GKAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 33 

though it had proceeded many miles upon 
its voyage. 

" What can this mean ?" she thought. 
" He was to come to me, or to have sent a 
letter by the pilot. But there has been 
no boat from the vessel ; for I should have 
heard the oars, if I could not have seen 
it." Again the visions of the night, mixed 
with the real scenes she had witnessed, 
rushed on her mind, and so oppressed her, 
that she unconsciously wandered back to the 
Castle. She wished to descend to the fatal 
spot, from which, in her alarm, she had so 
precipitately fled ; yet a stronger feeling 
seemed to check the wish, and it was some 
time before she could compose herself 
sufficiently to undertake the task. Half 
frantic, she knew not why, she hurried 
tremblingly down the winding path that 
led to it, anxious to discover, by the ap- 
pearance of the ground where Henry had 
fallen, what had been the conclusion of 
the terrible scene of the preceding night, 



34 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

great was her horror on finding that the 
grass had been recently removed, and hastily 
replaced ; and that the earth which had been 
taken from beneath it lay scattered upon the 
rocks, over which it had been cast into the 
sea. " It is clear, then/' she said, " that it 
was not a dream, but a dreadful reality. I 
did see him, and he did indeed bid me fare- 
well — and for ever!" .... 

She fell senseless on the grave. 

When she recovered her senses, she endea- 
voured to collect all her energy to leave the 
spot unperceived, and return home. At length 
she accomplished her object: and when her 
father asked her what had detained her so 
long, he turned away before she could attempt 
a reply; for his Maria was every thing to him, 
and the tears which streamed down her 
cheeks confirmed his suspicion of her attach- 
ment, whilst they prevented any further in- 
quiry into the real cause of her dejection. 

Night after night would poor Maria wander 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 35 

to the spot where her lover lay, and sit and 
watch, by moonlight, the turf that covered 
his cold remains — clasping the locket to her 
bosom, or bathing it in tears, until her mind 
became half frantic : and when the paroxysm 
of grief was over, so dreadful a gloom would 
follow, that her father, alarmed at her 
wretched condition, tried, by every means in 
his power, to divert her attention, and restore 
her to her former cheerfulness. It was to no 
purpose — all around appeared to her a per- 
fect blank ; she heeded little that was said to 
her ; her wanderings were her only solace : 
these became more frequent, but her nightly 
sufferings were known to no one. Still she 
struggled against her misery, and was always 
ready to do her duty in the house — to join 
her father at his meals, and watch over him 
with the most affectionate solicitude. In her 
more tranquil moments, she felt that he was 
all that was left to her — the only living soul 
for whom she had any regard. 



36 G0MER0CK CASTLE ; OR, 

One morning, she came not down at her 
usual hour. Her father, alarmed, hastened 
to her room. Her bonnet and cloak were 
gone — it was clear she had not slept there. 
" Gracious Heaven !" he said ; " what can 
have happened ?" 

He hurried to the Castle as fast as his old 
and trembling limbs would carry him ; but 
all was peace and solitude. He searched the 
cliffs — he called loudly upon his Maria ; but 
no voice answered him. 

Half frantic, he returned to his house. 
As he entered, he heard some pilots talking 
anxiously in the kitchen. 

" I knew not what it was/' said one ; " but 
I swear I saw it spring from the rock, and 
disappear/' 

" And so did I," said another. " We were 
just passing between the Castles, — it was 
about eleven o'clock ; the moon was up, and 
we were taking out the brig bound up the 
Straits. I was at the helm, — and I would 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 37 

swear it must have been the ghost of a 
woman. I never was so frightened ; it dis- 
appeared so suddenly. The boy Hamilton 
was looking over the larboard gangway, and 
he saw it as well as I did." 

"When did you see it ?" exclaimed Black- 
aller, who by this time had reached the 
room. " Where did you see it ? what was it 
like ? Speak, man ! 

"It was like a tall woman/' he replied: 
" it was on the rocks under the old Castle." 

" It was my Maria ! Her frenzied brain 
could no longer bear the weight of its misery, 

and she has " but before he could finish 

his sentence, Blackaller had fallen lifeless 
on the ground. 

His manly heart, which had braved a 
thousand dangers, had lost the only tie that 
bound him to the world, — the beloved resem- 
blance of her whose life he had saved at the 
peril of his own, and who had forsaken kin- 
dred and friends to share the fate of the 
captain of the " Black Hover." 



38 GOMEROCK CASTLE ; OR, 

He could have led again his long-lost 
gallant crew on the most desperate enter- 
prise, and looked calmly on death in every 
shape ; but the last strand of the cable by 
which his storm-worn bark was moored to 
life, had parted — his whole soul was bound 
up in that of his Maria. 

Yet the mate's body lay not in the ruins of 
the Castle. 

A seaman, in a wind-bound ship about to 
sail, had breathed his last, and his captain 
(as was too often the custom, to save the ex- 
penses of a funeral, and yet not cast the body 
into the sea) brought it to that spot, and 
buried it, soon after the mate had been carried 
on board his ship. 

The varied scenes of that eventful night 
had detained the captain and crew of the 
Meridian till a late hour. A slight breeze 
from the land enabled the captain to leave 
the port without waiting for tide or pilot ; 
and thus, in the confusion and distress which 



THE GRAVE OF THE UNKNOWN. 39 

his conscious mind now told him he had 
brought upon himself, he sailed, without 
fulfilling his last promise to Maria. And if 
the kind forgiveness of the mate had not 
wrought an entire change in his fierce temper 
during their voyage, the sad tidings which 
awaited their return to England made him 
indeed an altered man. Henry Mordaunt 
was ever after to him as an injured son ; he 
was his only care through life ; and if the 
captain's future conduct was a proof of a 
repentant mind, he died in peace. 

The family of Blackaller has long ceased 
to exist in Kingswear. Some poor relations 
shared by will the little wealth old William 
had accumulated, which, if w T on in strife and 
blood, was well bestowed on those whom he 
had long assisted in their honest struggles 
against biting poverty. It was bestowed on 
one condition — that he should be buried in 
the churchyard of his native place, beside his 
long-lost mother, without any stone to mark 



40 



GOMEROCK CASTLE. 



his grave. And those who shared his money 
felt it might be wise in them never to name 
their benefactor. 

No trace where he was laid can now be 
found. If he had drawn a pirate's sword, let 
all who hear the story of his life pause and 
scan their own before they cast a stone at 
that of William Blackaller. 



THE END. 



T. C. Savill, Printer, 107, St. Martin's Lane. 






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